


what is a prayer to a flood?

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [11]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Eldritch, Gen, It Gets Worse, M/M, Referenced Gun Violence, Self-Harm, chloroforming, gratuitous grossness?, i tried not to tip it over the scale into just, i've never written horror before Blease BE nice, not really but close enough, unreality, while still maintaining the necessary scary stuff???, zalgo text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Roses are red, violets are bluethe monster in the forestis coming to get you





	what is a prayer to a flood?

**Author's Note:**

> "Winkum, Winkum" and "Wake up bright" are both (slightly modified) children's nursery rhymes. the title is from Anatomy Of A Storm by William Nu'utupu Giles

Logan could not concentrate on anything.

He glared at the open history textbook in front of him, but he wasn’t absorbing any of the text. Even the tiniest of sounds – the click-click-clicking of someone’s pen, the turning of a page, a faint cough – all of them seemed loud as a percussion line in the dead quiet of the study hall.

He had no idea how he was going to pull off this evening.

Bringing Roman with him to the revel was far and above the  _stupidest_ thing he’d ever even  _contemplated_ doing. Roman didn’t listen to him about  _mundane_  problems; factor in Eirwen’s infuriating Cassandra-curse and the odds of Roman listening to anything Logan told him in an attempt to keep him alive dropped as close to zero as could reasonably be measured.

What if he got caught up in the dancing? What if he ate something? What if Eirwen took one look at him and decided to speed up her stupid game?

A crumpled paper ball landed on his desk.

Logan looked a couple tables over, where Patton was glancing around surreptitiously at the study hall monitors, a nervous smile on his face. He caught Logan’s eye and waved a little.

Logan pulled the paper apart and couldn’t help the soft, fond expression that spread across his face.

_Cheer up, buttercup!_  Said the note in scribbly-colored bubble letters. A rudimentary doodle of Logan with a crown of bright yellow flowers waved at him, wearing a smile much wider than any that had actually been on Logan’s face.

Logan gave Patton a little wave and smile back. Patton grinned wide and Logan could see his dimples from across the room. Patton went back to his book, a peaceful expression on his face. Logan felt a rush of affection for him.

In his distraction about the coming night, he had forgotten to grab his water bottle out of his locker this morning. His thirst was at least one distraction he could eliminate fairly easily.

Sighing and making his way over to monitor’s table, he tried to shake off his sense of impending doom. It wouldn’t do for him to emulate Roman’s dramatic tendencies right now – at least one of them needed to be reasonable.

The monitor did not even look up at him from her newspaper. She merely waved her hand at the hall pass and the sign-out sheet.

“You know the rules, go ahead,”

The hall pass was merely a clear plastic ruler with a tag on it. When he was alone in the hall, Logan allowed himself to indulge for a moment in swinging it a few times.

He debated going out of his way for the better water fountain, or even going to his locker to get his actual water bottle. His time limit was five minutes before he got a mark, and he wasn’t sure if he had the time to spare.

Deciding on the good fountain but not his locker, he turned around the corner to the left and sped up slightly.

Only for his heart and feet to stop entirely.

It was like a physical cloud of sheer dread had filled the hallway – a miasma that poured into Logan’s mouth and made him gag. At the other end of the hall, a mass of glistening scales and warping outlines, blurring the edges of the world around it, was the Serpent King’s monster.

_**ẇ͍̮̘̹̜̝̘͒͊̒̈́̃̄ͅh̛͉̭͙̹͊̅̌̇͒̀̚ͅȩ̴̢̫̫̥͇͒̇͑̊̏͡ͅr̵͕͈̣̮̯̬̹̟̼̊̍́̂̾̆͜͝ȩ̶̡̭͔̜͕̩͋͂̎͑̓͋̊͟ ĭ̴̡̻̖̪͓̎͆̎̋̓̔̊̓͞s̬̼̱̠͓̒̄̎͑̀ h͍͎͓̞̰̘̐̆͑͛͊̃͌̀è̶̜̻͚̩̖̯͚̄̌̐̕͟.̳̣͎͔͔̼̳͍̪̊͐͛͒̂̊̕ w͈͈̤͈̜̐̍̌̈̋̌͐̚̕h̢̡̤̹̤͑̓̀͌̒̓é̴̢̖̳̮̫̅̒̏̉͒̚r̸̼̥̰̗͉̮̬̐̍̍̊̐͝ȅ̩̹̞̝̱̃̒͐́̕͜͞ i͕͙͙̟͇̍̾͆̓̌̈͘s̷̞̗͔̪͔̹͉͚͂͂̓̏̓̍̕͟͞͠ͅ h̨̦̣̝̱͕͕͎̓̂̔̒̃̎͗͘͜ę̯̣̤͒͛̈́̔̾̋̚͜͞͡.͕̫͚̻͉̊͋̑͋̓͜͞ͅ.̸̨̻͉̮͙̩̓̾̌̐͒̾͑͐͐̕.̙̱̲̦̉̉͗̈́͛͘͢͢͢͝** _

Logan turned on his heel and sprinted back towards the study hall.

He burst through the door and slammed it shut behind him – everyone in the room jumped, startled, and the teacher glared at him.

“Ex _cuse me-”_

“Call in a lockdown!” shouted Logan, dragging an empty desk very to barricade the door. His heartbeat was so fast and loud in his ears that it sounded like a single, sustained roar.

The teacher looked at him incredulously.

“ _what?”_

“ _Call in a lockdown, NOW!”_

The teacher looked for a moment like she was reaching for the intercom, and then she blinked, something briefly shiny in her eyes, and scowled.

“You little troublemaker!” she snapped, “That’s not a funny joke!”

Logan could have screamed.

“I am  _begging_  you,  _please_ -”

And that was when the fire alarm went off, and Logan’s stomach dropped.

* * *

“So,” said Mr. Sanders, “What have we learned  _not_  to do in drama class, Remy?”

Remy was slumped in his seat, grumbling.

Mr. Sanders cleared his throat pointedly.

Remy huffed.

“Don’t drag people for corpsing, even if they do it  _over and over-_ ,”

“I laugh when I’m anxious and I’m having  _a week_ , you  _jackass-”_

“It’s Tuesday, babe,” Remy smiled sarcastically.

“ _Don’t call me babe,”_

“Dealing with y’all is like herding cats,” Mr. Sanders said tiredly. “Both of you – again with the names?”

“Jackass isn’t name-calling, it’s an accurate descriptor of his abysmal personality,”

“Well, you sure didn’t mind me calling you babe on Sat-”

“Not. Appropriate,” Mr. Sanders snapped, and Remy had the decency to look suitably chastised.

Mr. Sanders pinched the bridge of his nose and then shrugged.

“Alright, if you two wanted to be paired up for the next portion you just had to ask,”

Remy and Roman both groaned.

Everybody paired up. It did not escape Roman’s notice that Thomas, on the other side of the room, was trying very hard not to look pleased every time Remy and Roman sniped at each other, and it was not hard to figure out why.

“You’re especially pissy today,” Roman groused.

“Shut up,” Remy snapped. Roman wrinkled his nose in agitation.

Remy was a naturally sarcastic person – Roman wasn’t sure if he’d expressed a genuine emotion in his entire life. But he wasn’t usually this  _tense_  about it. He was downright jittery, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet and scowling.

“Alright! We’re doing ‘Fortunately, Unfortunately.’ Start with whichever one you want. Since we’re using even numbers, I’ll yell switch halfway through and you can swap,”

The class murmured in agreement.

“And, go!”

“Unfortunately, I got paired with you,” Remy jumped in before Roman could even open his mouth.

Roman scowled. “That’s not how this works and you know it-”

“Yes.  _And_.” Remy said, his jaw set.

Roman sighed.

“Fortunately, you apparently get to say whatever the hell you want,”

“Unfortunately, you’re going to have to deal,”

“Fortunately, I’m capable of carrying a scene by myself when my partner is a douche,”

“Unfortunately, your voice gives me hives,”

“You are being even more spectacularly petty than usual,” Roman snapped.

“Yes, and!”

Roman threw his hands up, “Fortunately I have thick skin and boundless patience!”

“Switch!”

“Fortunately, your skull is just as thick,” Remy said without missing a beat.

“What is your  _problem_  today?”

“ _Someone told me we made Emile cry, okay?”_

Remy’s eyes went wide and his mouth shut with an audible  _clack_  of teeth. Roman’s jaw dropped open in disbelief.

“Emile?” he said, and he could feel the gobsmacked, delighted look slowly spreading over his face. He probably looked ridiculous.

“Shut up,” hissed Remy, hushing Roman with his hands – his face was rapidly turning scarlet.

“No  _shit,_  Emile  _Picani?”_

“I will deck you, Gage, in front of God and everybody, don’t test me,”

“This is the greatest thing that's ever happened in the history of the universe,” said Roman, equally ecstatic and baffled, “Didn’t he wear a flower crown to school today? He brings cookies on teacher’s birthdays and you, latest in a long family line of illegal booze manufacturing, have a crush on him. This is fantastic,”

“Yeah, well, we managed to kill the chance I didn’t even know I had, so forgive me if I’m a little fucking salty today,” Remy snapped.

Roman winced. Right.

“Time!”

They both startled. Roman placed a sheepish hand on the back of his neck.

“You don’t… you don’t know that for sure. Don’t give up before you’ve even tried,” he said encouragingly.

Remy rolled his eyes so hard that Roman suspected he’d seen the inside of his own skull for a moment.

“ _You,_ Roman, are at the  _very top_  of the list of people I ain’t  _ever_  gonna take romance advice from. It’s got three people on it, go ahead and guess the other two,”

Roman sputtered, his face flushing, and he opened his mouth to retort – though he had no idea what he was going to say.

But before he could speak, the shrill, ear-splitting noise of the fire alarm went off around them.

“ _Don’t_  swarm the door, single file, please,” Mr. Sanders warned. They all shuffled into a haphazard line and filed out.

The hall was rapidly filling around them, and Roman saw Mr. Sanders murmuring to another teacher n low tones. He got a little nervous – this wasn’t a drill. He wondered where the fire could be.

And that was when the screaming started.

Everyone in the hallway froze. The shrieking was echoing from the end of the hall. And coming closer.

“Get back in the classrooms,” Mr. Sanders ordered.

“Oh my god, is this a shooting?” said someone

“In the classrooms  _now,_ ”

The students obeyed, but there were too many of them already in the hallway – the doorways were bottle-necking. People began to push and shove, unable to get back into the classrooms quick enough.

The screaming was so close now, just around the corner.

“ _Run!”_  someone screamed.

Roman didn’t have to be told twice.

They all sprinted in the opposite direction, a singular mass of terrified, shoving bodies – Roman had the fleeting thought that it would be so easy for someone to get trampled in the panic. The crowd split at a fork in the building, and then again at the next, everybody moving in different directions, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the slowly fading shouting behind them.

But something was wrong.

The hallways were longer than they were supposed to be, and some of the turns weren’t right. The edges of the walls seemed… blurry? Warping, almost, like a glitching TV. Roman’s eyes kept going out of focus the further ahead he tried to look, like when he messed around and wore Logan’s or Patton’s glasses. And he wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed like the  _floor_  was tilting.

Roman glanced behind him – Thomas and Remy were close on his heels, but they’d been separated from everyone else at some point. Roman wheeled around the next corner.

Into a scene of absolute mayhem.

The chaos in front of him was so severe it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. And the  _noise_  – it was  _deafening_. He had no idea how he hadn’t heard coming towards it.

But there was no shooter. Everyone in the hallway was attacking  _each other_.

It was like every one of them had gone utterly feral – they were all blurs of snapping teeth and clawing hands, tearing out each other’s hair and slamming one another into lockers, all of them shrieking in rage. Most of them were only screeching wordlessly but some of them were speaking, the words ripping out of their throats on voices that seemed so inhuman Roman didn’t know how they were producing the sound.

_Ẁ̢͙̰̯͚͈̪̮̬̙̊͌̃̄́Ḧ̵͔̟̱̊̉͒̅͟͟E̸̛̲̥̭̰͊̐͆̊͡ͅR̶̨̫͈̦̣̗͖̤̱̓̒͛̈́̊͌͋̍̀͘ͅE̴̥͕̻̝̲̞͊̉̓͂͒̕͟͟ͅ I̸̧̨̝͇̻̻̊̓͆͐͑̄S͔̻̘̩̟̼̔͐͌̊̀͜͢͢ H̢̝̜͙̺̺͗̔̂̀͟͝͞͝E̵̡̻̩͉͉̠͔̓͂̒̔͘͘̚̕͢ͅ_

“What the  _fuck,”_  said Remy.

“Elliot?” said Thomas, terrified.

Roman looked askance at Thomas, and then followed the line of his gaze to – oh, God.

The closest of the screaming students to them, Elliot Pennybacker was not attacking anyone else. They were curled up on the floor, leaning against the concrete wall, slamming their head against it, over and over. Blood was dripping down the side of their face.

“Jesus _,”_  said Roman, rushing forward and trying to stop them.

It became obvious that they had only been not attacking anyone because there was no one else  _close enough._

They lunged, grabbing the front of Roman’s shirt and screaming in his face.

_**“W͙̘̞̺͇͊̈̀̔͋̈́̂͘͠ḧ͙̥̮̥̺̰̐̒̊̌ȩ̢̧̗̝̳̼̫͚̐͂̈́̍̇͆͌͗̄͗ṟ̷̡̛͍̫͇̳́̽͌̒̄̽͂͠ͅe̸̡̫̬͎̙̰̜̠͒̆̓̂̔̈͗̇͞ ĭ̵̺̳̘̖̲̱̙͕̞̞͆̓̑̕͡͞s̡̧̧̬̟̉̈́̒͒̆͝͠ h̺͖̘͇̥̠̪̺̤̍̈̊̌̀̕̚͜͝e̛̱͕͈̠̳̥̭͇͈͗̒̾̑̕͠?͚̭̻̦̦͉̈́͊̿̀͗͐̇̿”** _

Their voice was warped – utterly inhuman, and didn’t even seem  _fae_. And as they spoke gemstones tumbled from their mouth, tapping on the floor. Roman grabbed their forearms, tying to do something to restrain them, and his hands recoiled.

The skin of their left arm was black, charred, or- or  _necrotic_ , maybe, Roman couldn’t seem to focus on the mark – it seemed almost like some kind of black hole had opened up in their skin, a void Roman couldn’t perceive.

“ _What the fuck,”_ Remy repeated, vehement.

Roman was going to have to agree.

“What the hell is-”

Remy froze.

“ _Emile?”_ he choked out, and Roman didn’t think he’d ever heard him sound afraid.

And if Elliot – sweet, shy Elliot, who was so self-sacrificing it sometimes hurt to think about it - launching at Roman like they wanted to tear him to shreds with their bare hands had been jarring, it was nothing compared to the sight of Emile Picani, flower crown askew and skirt torn down one side, nose bleeding, swinging what looked like a broken chair leg at someone’s skull.

Before Roman could stop him, Remy bolted.

“You  _idiot!”_

Remy ignored him, grabbing the chair leg and trying to wrench it from Emile’s grasp. Emile snarled and relinquished it, but then he took a swipe at Remy’s face, his nails catching him. Remy stumbled back, three parallel lines of red welling up on his cheek.

And Emile didn’t let up. He matched Remy step for step, clawing at any part of him he could reach.

Roman tried to move towards them to help, but what Elliot – or whatever had  _possessed_ Elliot – lacked in size they made up for with an iron-clad grip. Roman turned to Thomas, a little exasperated.

“I could use a hand!” he snapped.

But Thomas was focused in the middle distance. He seemed to be having trouble talking. He started to rock.

He began to mutter something, and when Roman took a lurching step towards him, still trying to ward off Elliot slashing at his face and clinging to his shirt, he got close enough to hear him over the roaring crowd behind him.

“ _Where is he?_ ” Thomas whispered, “ _She hid him. **Where is he?**_ ”

Well.

That was probably not good.

~

Nobody was answering their  _fucking_  phone.

Both Logan and Patton had been trying to get someone – any of their friends, either of Logan’s parents,  _anyone_  – to pick up, but every one of them was going straight to voicemail. And their own phones could barely  _make_  the calls anyway – nonsensical error messages and unexplained crashes, and then was when they actually managed to read the screen at all.

Logan had been ignored and,  _miraculously_ , they’d gotten out of the building without encountering the creature. But standing on the lawn in front of the school, it was obvious that whole classes were missing – probably less than half the students were outside.

Patton was still under the impression there was a fire, and Logan was trying not to dissuade him from that notion. He had no idea if shouting at the teacher had counted against Patton as well – if it had, he only had one more attempt remaining.

_Pointless anyway._

Logan ignored the thought.

Patton was wringing his hands, growing increasingly distressed.

“I don’t see any  _smoke_ ,” he cried, “Where is it, what if they’re trapped?”

“They may have gone out the other side of the building,” said Logan. He knew he was trying to convince himself as much as Patton.

He’d seen the creature tear things apart into absolutely nothing – like it had just wrenched them out of reality. He’d seen things drown themselves or throw themselves off of cliffs under its influence. He had no idea if recovering from it’s power was even possible.

As he watched the building, he happened to catch a nauseating glimpse of it through the window.

“Don’t look!”

Launching forward, he grabbed Patton’s shoulder and yanked him around to face away from the building.

“Wh- don’t look-” Patton tried to turn around, “Don’t look at what-?”

Logan placed both hands on Patton’s face and turned his head away.

“Please, just trust me, this  _one time,_  Patton,”

Patton got a little furrow between his brows.

“Logan, of course I trust you!” he said.

He blinked. His eyes went shiny.

The furrow got deeper – his face turned sad and slightly frustrated.

“There’s no fire, is there?”

“Patton,” Logan warned.

“What’s in there?” Patton demanded. “What if Roman’s trapped with it, whatever it is, what if your  _brother_  is?”

“And what do you propose we do?” demanded Logan desperately, “All of us perish together, very poetic!”

“They might  _die?”_

Patton shook off Logan’s hands. He moved towards the school building – he obviously intended to go in after them.

Logan grabbed his hand. He was shaking. He felt like a drum circle had come to life in his chest.

“Logan, I have to try and help them!” Patton said desperately.

Logan stared.

He couldn’t help anyone still in the building. He couldn’t warn Patton – he wouldn’t listen. No one ever  _listened_.

“You have no intention of heeding anything I say?” Logan whispered.

Patton gave him a forlorn look.

“Logan, I can’t leave them  _alone,_ ”

Logan let out a long breath.

“May I have a hug?” he said, his voice cracking.

Patton’s face softened instantly, and he stepped into Logan’s already open arms without a second of hesitation.

“Everything will be okay, Logan,” Patton soothed.

Logan close his eyes, pressing his mouth to the top of Patton’s head – not quite a kiss, but enough to quell the trembling of his arms around Patton’s shoulders.

“I know you’re not going to appreciate it,” Logan said into his hair, “But I am  _truly_ sorry,”

Patton tensed.

“Sorry for wh-”

“ _Winkum, winkum, shut your eyes, sleep and goodnight, lullaby,”_

Patton collapsed.

Logan already had his arms around him, so it was simple enough to gently lower them both to the ground, Patton’s head resting in Logan’s lap.

“Hey, is he okay?”

Logan looked up, panicked, at the underclassman who was now walking towards them with an alarmed and thoroughly suspicious expression on her face.

“He is unharmed. Fainting is an understandable response to stressful situations,”

The truth and not the truth, lying and not lying. The underclassmen looked down and raised an eyebrow at the way Logan was cradling Patton like a glass sculpture. Logan felt his ears turn pink, but he did not flinch.

“...Okay,” she said warily, “I’ll let you know if I find the nurse, okay?” she said. Logan barely contained his wince.

“Your concern is noted,” he said.

She moved away from them, and Logan relaxed. He wanted to touch Patton’s hair or his face, comfort him somehow, as if that would make up for what he’d done – but he’d done enough to Patton without his consent at this point. He didn’t need to make it worse.

Patton was going to hate him.

But at least he’d be alive to do so.

* * *

“Hey, uh, Thomas? Buddy? Stay with me here, please,”

Thomas made no indication the he could hear Roman.

“Remy, some assistance?” he squeaked.

Remy did look back, but he was mostly concentrating on keeping Emile’s nails away from his eyes. His sunglasses had gone skittering across the floor from atop his head, and he alternated grabbing Emile’s hands to restrain him and covering his own ears like he was in pain.

**_Wh̵͓̬̳͖͕̼͇̓͗̃̋̕͟ȅ̡̬̱͚̭̩͈͊̍̉̿͟͝r̩̻̩̻̣̟͊͐̌̌͛̚e̶̢̡̝̭̱̣̼͒̾͗̇̚ͅ ḭ̴̮̬̹͙̦͇̠͕̓̏̓͗̅͝s͉̣͕̠͖̗͉̤͚̅͒̒̅̆͗͂͜ h̛̙̖̠͉̹̺̜͛̑̆̔̏͋̄̓͡e͚̮͚͓͉͚̅̋͌̑̾̓̍,̴̧̨̢̖͉͕̣̥̊͛͞ Wh̵̡͙̘͒̑̄̔̈̀̚͢͞ͅë̸̼͓̰͎͈̮͚̹̞́̇̑̈́̉͐̃̕͟r̸̼͈̰̱̤̆͌̃͑̿̀̂̓͜ė̸̬̮͖̼͂̄͊̔͜ i̶̼͈͎͈͇̣͊̎̎̿͋̃̓ș̸̛̤͔͖̳̙̯͙͑̏̾͊̂͘͘͢͡ h̷̹̠̞̖̲̞̋͋͒͂͘ę̘̭͈̩̤̣̟̗̾̐̒͛͌̿̋̂͆.̵̭̜̬̙͖̠̹̬̔̅̾͂̽̂̐͛̚͢ Sḥ̶̡̟̥̳͉̙͚̝̂͐̉̓̾̌͗̓̚̕ȩ̸̢̨͇͕͒͐̿͒̓͌̚͟ h̴̥̗̣̾̑͂͂̐̕͟͢͝ỉ̢̳̫̱̮̘̹̞͆̿̉͗̎͊̓̄ͅͅd̸͈͎̰̫͍̰͖͒̆͂̎͢ h̤̖̗̖̟̩̤̐̄̉̇ȉ͉̩͕̹̦͙͚̿͌͋͑̇̅͟m̡̼͈̤͓͉̲̤̭͗͋͑̄̐̈́͂,̧͍͓̦͇̼̙̑̐͑͆̈́̋ Wḣ̝̳̝̭͙̔̄̿̚è̷̟̱̮̟̲͚͍͖̂̉̃̾̎̎̕̚͟͝ͅȓ̨̨̩̲̱͋̃͠͞͝ȅ̵̡̧͔̻͑̾̾̍̚͢ ị̶̢͍̲͖͔͕͍͖̫̅́̋̌̕s̵̢̩̟̟͈̹̦̘̬̑̒̾̽̎ͅ ḩ̵̧̲̫͚̱̳̫̪̫̈́̈̈́͗̀̉e̸̹̦͍̣͙͓̺͍̊̎̋͗̈́͜͝?̢͍̘͙̜̲̻̼̔̓͊̏͝_  
**

Elliot’s face was so close to Roman’s that every word sent flecks of wet spit onto his cheeks. Their hands shifted, reaching for Roman’s throat.

Roman cringed in sympathy for what he was about to do, planted his feet, and  _shoved_.

He’d  _wildly_ overestimated it – Elliot went stumbling back, slamming into the lockers. They slid down to the ground and resumed the pounding of their head – a new spot of red showed on the metal door.

Roman kneeled down, yanking open his bag – he had to have scissors or a sharp pen or  _something -_ he had to get help, but he didn’t know what kind of fae he was up against, he’d  _have_  to be armed somehow-

**_W̧͙̟̦͐͊̈́͘͜͠H̸̗̟̝͖͈̏̌̀͐̂Ė̛̺̰̞̘̺̣͓̘͊̋͐̆̉Ŕ̛͍̰̘͉͖̝̹̱̭̍̓͐̑̽ͅÉ͇̩̟̲͈͇̇͂͒͛͜͜ I̵̢̲̙̪̳͕̭̝͐͌͆͆̈́͡͠Š̴̤͉̟̞̻̘̄̆͋̊͂̈́͘͘ Ḩ̫̣̳̯̝͎̤͖͎͌͌͋̂̕̚͡E̡̼̫̹̮̩̙̪͚̿͋̾͛̈͒̕. WH̛̥̫̩̲͈͚̖̗͑̓͘͟͞Ê͚̹͉̫͇͔̮̖͑̀̆̿͂R̸̢̨̤̞̯̪͚͙͈͊̓͛͐͜͡E̷͕̪̜͔̪̗̥͕̓̐̕͘̕ I̯̥͉̲̹͓̾̈̆͆̅͌͢͟͡S̵̡͕̥͚̳͗̓͌͑͑̋̒͌͂͝ H̦̣̜̪̳̣̗̥̐̑͋̅͑́̀͛̚Ḛ̛̗͍̻̮̰͖̹͈͍̑̅̀̚  
_ **

His hand closed around something, but it wasn’t a weapon.

Baffled, he grabbed the soft bundle of objects and pulled them out.

It was more of those cotton  _dolls_. A dozen or so of them, all with that strange, gritty feeling inside them and smelling of herbs and flowers. They’d been wound together haphazardly, like someone was in a hurry, just crammed into a ball with a long string of itchy brown twine wrapped around them to hold them together.

“What – why would-?”

One of them had come loose when he’d pulled it out of his bag and gone sliding across the floor toward Remy and Emile. The movement caught Remy’s eye, and his moment of distraction was enough for Emile to tackle him to the floor.

Pinned, Remy reached out reflexively, grabbed the doll and shoved in Emile’s face.

Emile reared back, hitting the wall. Remy was quickly descending into the same madness that had everyone else screaming. He slammed his fists on the floor, then reached up and tore at his hair again. They were going to kill each other at this rate.

How long had this been happening? How many people were  _already dead?_

Roman stood – he had to get between them, even though he couldn’t take all of them, even though it couldn’t do any good, even though it was only a matter of time before he succumbed as well and they all murdered each other in some kind of blood frenzy.

But when Emile sat up, his eyes had cleared. He was blinking rapidly, slowly raising his hands to his face.

“Oh, gee,” he said thickly – Roman had the feeling that his nose was probably broken – “did I walk into a  _wall_ , gosh!”

Roman stared, baffled. Something had changed, something had knocked Emile out of it.

Sitting in Emile’s lap was the doll, stained red from the blood on his face.

Roman had a half second to think it through and grab one of the dolls before Remy launched himself at Emile.

Roman tackled him – luckily whatever rage spell they were under made them all easily distracted. He used one hand to push Remy away from his face – was he trying to  _bite_  him? - and used the other to shove the doll against Remy’s bleeding cheek.

There was a delay, and Roman thought he might have miscalculated, but then Remy’s eyes fluttered and he jerked back.

“What-?”

He looked around, and saw Emile on the floor. For his part, Emile was looking back into the rioting hallway with absolute horror.

As Remy moved away, his attention taken up entirely by Emile and his expression so relieved he was swaying slightly, Roman went back to Thomas. He hesitated. Thomas wasn’t bleeding –  _yet_ , said some incredibly pessimistic voice in his head – and Roman didn’t really want to  _hurt_ him.

He darted forward, yanking some of the hair from Thomas's head.

Thomas screamed, pouncing like a cornered cat, and Roman couldn’t help the wince as he planted his foot against Thomas’s sternum and kicked him backwards. He cursed his shaking fingers, but managed to tie the hair in a knot around the neck of the doll before Thomas could right himself.

Thomas laid still on the floor for a moment, twitched, and then he sat up, rubbing his head.

“Did I faint?” he said. Roman slumped.

“I  _wish_ ,” said Roman. Finally, he went over to Elliot, taking one of the dolls and wrinkling his nose in disgust as he mopped some of the blood from the wall.

But Elliot didn’t come to.

The gems falling from their mouth stopped, and they gently set their head against the metal of the locker one last time.

“Where is he?” they whispered, their voice no longer inhuman but still airy and far away-sounding “Where are you hiding him?”

“Who, Elliot?”

But Elliot just closed their eyes, slumping against the locker. They’d completely passed out.

Roman turned towards the chaos. He didn’t have enough of these – little charms, whatever they were, for everyone – there was no way he could pull this off.

But not everybody was fighting still. Instead, people were starting to just… collapse.

Not even like they were passing out – there was no swaying, no gradual decline. One by one they all simply crumpled, like dropped marionettes, hitting the floor where they stood.

And then the four of them were alone, surrounded by limp, sleeping bodies.

“I vote,” said Roman, “That we never fucking do that ever again,”

A chorus of murmured agreement came back.

It was supremely awkward to pick their way across the hallway. Emile was quickly approaching absolute hysteria, even as Remy spoke gently to him in the softest voice Roman had ever heard him use.

The hallways had righted themselves, and they were no longer clipping at the edges like a bad video game. They found the closest door with further trouble, walking out on to the school’s front lawn.

It was obvious that some of these people had been fighting – Roman let out a heavy sigh of relief. They  _were_  going to wake up then.

But hell if it didn’t look like there’d been an outright  _bloodbath._  He knew head wounds bled a lot, in theory, but it was another thing entirely to see his classmates faces stained red, like extras in a second-rate zombie movie. A few of them were cradling bruised – and in some cases, sickeningly crooked – limbs, and he caught sight of Sadie Wagner across the lawn. There was no love lost there, but he still flinched when he saw the broken off wooden ruler sticking out of her upper arm.

His heartbeat was picking up.

“Do you see Logan and Patton?” he asked.

“No,” Thomas responded, fretting his hands in front of him.

“Hey! Hey, Sanders!”

Thomas turned towards the voice – a freshman girl stood a few feet away, looking distinctly green.

“You looking for, uh, your brother?”

“Yeah,  _yes_ , where is he?”

She gestured down the lawn.

“Over there, um. His friend, with the voi-” she shifted from green to pink and switched tracks, “The blonde? He fainted, but the nur-”

“Patton  _fainted?”_  Roman exclaimed, cutting her off and booking it across the grass, ignoring the rest of whatever she was going to say.

He ducked back and forth through the crowd, scanning the ground for a flash of gold or silver – had Patton’s allergies caused it? He’d never fainted before, at least not as far as Roman knew. But then, this was a pretty spectacularly awful day.

And then they came into view, separated from the crowd by a few feet in every direction. Roman shouted, and Logan’s head jerked up. He was always pale, but right now he looked positively ashen.

Roman heard Thomas catch up behind him and Logan exhaled, relaxing so much that his whole body bowed over Patton’s head, like he couldn’t even muster the energy to sit up anymore. Roman kneeled in the grass next to him.

“Hey, Doctor Worry-able, everyone’s fine. Do you need a minute?”

Thomas didn’t speak, but he did move around behind Logan and sit down, pressing their backs together and taking deep, measured breaths. It seemed to be precisely what Logan needed, and he sat up, pushing his hair back with one shaking hand.

“I am…” he chewed on his words for a moment, “I have collected myself,”

“How’s Patton?”

Logan flinched so severely Roman actually recoiled.

“I suppose there’s no way I’m getting out of this,” Logan said flatly.

Thomas turned his head, a confused expression on his face that Roman could feel mirrored on his own.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, opening and closing his hands.

Then he leaned down, and when he opened his mouth instead of his usual level tone, that bizarre, sing-song voice broke the silence.

“ _Wake up bright in the morning light,”_

Patton startled and his eyes popped open instantly.

Roman’s mouth dropped open.

Patton seemed confused for a moment, looking up at Logan with an indecipherable expression. Slowly, he sat up. Logan leaned back, giving him plenty of room to move away, and refused to look at any of them. Thomas had gone perfectly still at his back.

“You-” Patton hesitated, his voice incredibly small, “Did you- did you just  _knock me out?”_

Logan didn’t move.

“Berry, you  _didn’t_ ,” Thomas said, horrified.

“I will not attempt to justify my actions,” said Logan. “I made a calculated decision out of selfishness and I will not argue otherwise,”

“Why would you-”

Logan cut Roman off.

“If the options are you being my friend and dead as opposed to hating me and alive, I will make the same decision every time. Indeed, it can hardly be called a decision,”

Patton was still staring at Logan, his face a picture of betrayal.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Logan said wearily, “But I am also not an idiot, and I do not expect you to do so,”

He stood up, dislodging Thomas. He hesitated, like he was going to say something else, but then he bit the inside of his mouth, turned and walked away.

The silence went straight through tense into painfully awkward.

“You okay, Pat?” Roman said quietly.

Patton seemed lost in thought. He touched his mouth and laughed nervously.

“Guess I know how everybody else feels, huh?”

“Hey,  _no,_ don’t do that-”

“I think I, uh-” Patton interjected. “I think I’m gonna go- somewhere, I guess,”

He scrambled up, moving in the opposite direction from Logan, and before Roman could speak his short figure had been swallowed by the crowd.

Roman, frustrated and more done with this week than he’d ever been in his life, actually groaned in frustration, throwing himself back into the grass.

It couldn’t possibly get worse.

Somehow, he felt like it was going to anyway.

* * *

Patton had never ditched school before.

There was a first time for everything.

The graveyard was as quiet as it always was. Patton hurried through his greetings, curled up next to Mrs. Fischer's grave, and tried not to outright scream in frustration.

Everything was falling apart. And… horrible,  _horrible_  things were happening. He’d slept through what looked like some kind of  _riot_. And Logan had done that to him; even though he was sure Patton would hate him afterwards, he’d done it anyway. He had been that sure something bad would happen.

The conversation they’d had before had felt strange. Patton had been so sure Logan was wrong, but he didn’t know why. And now he had no idea how to feel about it.

He didn’t usually come to the graveyard two days in a row – when he did, the rabbit sometimes came and sometimes didn’t. Patton didn’t actually know what the bunny did when he wasn’t around.

He waited an hour, then two. He was being selfish. Something was wrong with his phone – it looked like the screen was cracked, even though he couldn't find anything physically wrong with it. His parents were probably worried sick. He hadn’t told anybody where he was going.

“Thank you,” he said, pointlessly. He slowly shifted back onto his feet, stomping a few times to get the feeling back into one of them. There was no impression of anything. Maybe they were all sleeping.

Maybe Patton was just too tired to pretend they could hear him.

He hopped back into the truck, jamming the key in a little too rough, enough to vent some of his pent up frustration.

“Hey,”

Patton screeched, flinging himself away from the voice.

In the passenger seat, a familiar – if unusually awake – figure sat, purple eyes staring at Patton with such intensity he felt like he’d been physically sewn to his seat.

“Got a minute?”

**Author's Note:**

> *wringing my hands nervously* sorry?
> 
> im [ tulipscomeinallsortofcolors](%E2%80%9Dtulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) over on tumblr if you'd like to yell at me across multiple platforms


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